Haunted on Bourbon Street by Deanna Chase

Author:Deanna Chase [Deanna Chase]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Bayou Moon Publishing
Published: 2012-06-30T18:08:16+00:00

Chapter 12

Emerging from the bathroom in old, faded jeans and a T-shirt, I crossed the room to shut the window. I pulled the latch closed and jumped at a sudden movement. Kane stood in front of me.

“Feeling better?” he asked through the glass.

“Jesus, Kane. What the hell are you doing here?”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” A thin thread of appreciation reached me.

I scowled. What exactly did he appreciate? My fresh-from-the-shower look? My hands curled into fists. It was a damn good thing glass separated us. For him, anyway. “How long have you been here?”

“A while.”

I narrowed my eyes.

“Can you open the window?”

Feeling the urge to deck him, I ignored the request. How dare he intrude on my private space? “Did you come in while I was in the shower?”

He shook his head slowly. “You weren’t here. I waited.”

I laughed humorlessly. “Figures. What? Used your landlord key?” That meant he’d been on my balcony the whole time I’d been home. I felt violated all over again.

He nodded.

“Bastard.” I spat.

“No argument here.”

Anger boiled in my belly as I glared at him.

“Jade, come on. It’s starting to rain. Could you let me in so we can discuss this?”

A couple of fat raindrops splattered on the window. Then the skies opened up into a typical New Orleans afternoon downpour. A twisted sense of satisfaction grew from my aggravation as I watched the water stream down his face. Fully intending to leave him there, I started to close the curtain.

Then the first booms of thunder rumbled.

“Oh, all right!” I couldn’t be responsible for him being struck by lightning, could I? “Wait right there.” I pointed to the wall closest to the window. “Do not drip on my computer.” After he toweled off, I shoved a folding chair at him. “You can sit here.”

He moved toward me.

“No. You’re only allowed to sit there, or else you can leave.”

Stepping back, he sat.

“What exactly are you doing here?”

“I was thinking you need a security latch on your door. Keep the underbelly out.”

“Are you the underbelly?” I turned in surprise at his comment.

He shrugged. “Strip club owner. I make my money off of naked women. Most people would consider me one of the underbelly. So yes, I guess so. Couple that with invading the private dreams of the women around me, and I think the jury would reach a unanimous conclusion.”

I raised a suspicious eyebrow. “Women?” My voice rose higher than usual as anger coiled tighter. “Are you invading other women’s dreams these days as well?”

“No, just yours lately.”

“Lately. Lucky me.” I snorted. “Who else has had this pleasure?”

“You know Pyper and I are old friends.” It was a statement, not a question, but I nodded. “She’s my closest friend. The thing is, the closer I am with someone the more likely it is I’d unconsciously slip into his or her dreams. I’ve learned over the years how to stop it, or to step out of the dream when it happens. I haven’t found myself in one of Pyper’s dreams in a few years.

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